


Innocent Drabble Collection - No Pairings

by RoseMaryImagination



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Child Abuse, Drabble, Drabble Collection, Gen, Starvation, Weirdness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-04-06 04:10:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4207389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseMaryImagination/pseuds/RoseMaryImagination
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a collection of all the drabbles I've posted on here so far but more will probably be added over time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. At Home

**A/N: I only have three drabbles written and uploaded here at the moment but I know there could be lots more coming, so before the number gets to great, I'm combining them into one now.**

**:-:-:Start of Drabble:-:-:**

He combed through his hair, taking all the knots out, and hissed when he pulled to hard, nearly ripping a handful of hair from his scalp. He didn't have much time so he had to hurry, if he didn't want to get naturally developed dreadlocks, he was only allowed to comb his hair once a month for five minutes. He had to bite on his lower lip, to stop a sob from coming out, as he tried to untangle a particular big knot on the back of his head and again ripped at his hair. He felt warm liquid slide down the back of his neck and lifted his, unoccupied, hand to the back of his head. He managed to keep a cry from escaping his mouth as his fingertips prodded at the now ripped skin on the back of his head. He ignored the pain and started combing his hair again, knowing the wound would heal by its self but his hair wouldn't survive another month of neglect.

Just as he was done with combing most of the knots out of his hair and was cleaning the brush, removing blood that covered it, he heard his uncle yell from the bottom of the stairs to make his breakfast. He ran to the bathroom where he quickly rinsed the brush and looked at the reflection of himself in the mirror. He quickly removed the blood from his neck , knowing his uncle would get mad if he left blood dripping around the house, and ran down the stairs to the kitchen.

After having made breakfast, for his purple faced uncle and balloon-like nephew, he got his once-a-day-allowed-bathroom-visit before he was ushered into the cupboard under the stairs and told not to make a sound if he wanted to have dinner that night. Knowing better than to stand up for himself, he nodded and seated himself on his makeshift bed.

Harry hoped he'd get the leftovers from breakfast the next morning, because he was starting to get really hungry after having eaten nothing for the last four days, except for the banana peel he had found in the trash can while cleaning two days ago.

A loud growl evoking from his stomach broke the silence of the cupboard and Harry clutched around himself hoping to muffle the noise so Vernon wouldn't hear and come punish him again. When the growling finally stopped Harry was scared that if he'd move it would start anew and decided that if he went to sleep his stomach would settle down. He closed his eyes and let out a soft sigh before the, nowadays, constant exhaustion easily swept him away to a dreamland filled with magic, dragons and a big family that welcomed him with open arms.


	2. Looking

**A/N: I don't know but I wanted to try my hand at a sort of poetic story... I didn't succeed. But I did write a crappy drabble/poem. Here it is:**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, it belongs to J.K. Rowling and something something studios.**

**:-:-:Start of Drabble:-:-:**

I am looking, out the window one of the compartments of the Hogwarts Express, observing what other people are doing.

I am looking, from my place in the back seat of the car, discovering how many shades of purple I can find in my uncles swollen face.

I am looking, from where I stand behind the stove, imagining what it would feels like to dance like the people do on my nephew's TV.

I am looking, at the ceiling of my cupboard, memorizing how many nails were used to secure every plank.

I am looking, at the sea, dreaming of just taking flight and never coming back.

I am looking, as I am dragged from my bed, evading the fists aimed at my face.

I am looking, at the flowers, thinking of setting them aflame.

I am looking, at the stars, longing for someone to take me away.

I am looking, at the carpet of my aunt's living room, bleeding as I am kicked again.

I am looking, at the Hogwarts Express, hoping I never have to go back.


	3. Sirius His Ignorance

**A/N: "Yeeey! A new drabble!" Is what I'm going to pretend you're yelling right now as I upload this MASTERPIECE (not being sarcastic, nope, not at all) as a fly to a spider's web, where it will remain to exist forever! *insert evil laughter***

**Hope you enjoy and sorry for the attitude, I'm fairly hyped on sugar right now.**

**:-:-:Start of Brainaneurism:-:-:**

It had all started so innocently; Harry had come running down the stairs and into the living room where he hadn't waited for his poor godfather to look up from his newspaper before immediately rattling of about something called a Terminator. Sirius had been confused as to what to answer when his godson suddenly asked him what he thought about this thing called Arnwould Swartsennegiar? After almost a full minute of trying to come up with something to say, that wouldn't make it obvious he hadn't understood a thing the boy had said, Sirius gave up and told Harry he didn't know what that was.

Harry had looked at him, eyes wide as saucers, and with a look of astonishment asked him if he had been living under a rock.

Sirius hadn't understood what that last part meant, which he had made clear by saying that; No, he hadn't been living under a rock! But he had, for some time, lived in the Shrieking Shack. Which Harry was supposed to know already. 

Harry had, again, stared at him before pity made its appearance. His eyes had started to water and he had asked, with one of the most somber voices Sirius had heard in a long time, if Sirius knew what a movie was. Sirius had answered a simple no and ,before he could say anything else, Harry was out of the front door.

Sirius would've gone after him but he was still on house arrest and couldn't risk it. So, instead he started pacing in circles, trying and failing to keep himself calm. He did his best on trying not to imagine the worst case scenario; in which Harry was ambushed the moment he went outside and was horribly tortured and— Agh! Sirius flung himself at the door all with the intend of ripping it off its hinges when it suddenly opened, hitting him right in the face. 

The resounding crack was impossible to miss and Sirius looked up with a glare at the one who had definitely broken his nose, only to forget all about when he saw the big grin on his godson's face.

He was dragged back into the living room and unceremoniously pushed onto the couch before his godson took place besides him. He looked on curiously as Harry pulled a small metal disk out of his pocked only to enlarge it until it revealed itself to be a Pensieve. Something in him warned him that what was going to follow wasn't good as Harry gave him an evil grin.

**:-:-:Awakening from CPR:-:-:**

**A/N: I profusely apologize for using up your precious time and see you next time! I hope.**


End file.
